


Like Violence

by vitamindesi



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Castiel, Breathplay, Demon Dean, Dubious Consent, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Light Bondage, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rimming, Stolen Grace, Top Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-18
Updated: 2014-08-18
Packaged: 2018-02-13 16:04:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2156706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vitamindesi/pseuds/vitamindesi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Pleasantries over already, Cas? Fine, I guess I’ll get down to business.” He flashed a devilish grin at Castiel, leaning back onto his heels. “So pretty much, I’d actually really enjoy a chance to fuck you right about now.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Violence

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for: dubious consent, light bondage, light breathplay  
> This is literally 3k words of demon!dean smut.  
> Enjoy

Castiel’s stolen grace had begun to burn in the pit of his stomach in a way that mirrored an ulcer. His vessel was trying to reject it, trying to spew it back into the universe, back to its original owner. Castiel continued to fight it, intending to last at least long enough to find out what had happened to Dean.

Sam had called him on his phone nine times, and prayed to him for at least an hour straight. Dean’s body had gone missing. He’d no idea how, or when, but he was near hyperventilating in his panic by the time that Castiel finally arrived. Using some of his waning power, he pressed his fingertips to Sam’s forehead, catching his body as he slumped over, entirely unconscious, forced into REM sleep. He tucked Sam into his bed and began to make a round through the bunker.

He knew that it felt off, he just couldn’t place his finger on it. Had something reached out and snatched Dean’s body off of this plane of reality? If so, why? Dead, he was no use to the angels, nor the demons. His death would be acknowledged as a mere blip on the radar of the universe. So, why…

“You lost, Cas?”

Castiel whirled from where he’d been standing over Dean’s bed, searching for clues. And there was Dean, leaning casually against the doorframe, his stance and smirk as cocksure as always. Castiel let his gaze wander over Dean’s body, looking for a hint of the wounds that Sam had described, yet could find none. His black T-shirt was in one piece, stretched thin over his chest and biceps. His jeans were crisp and clean as though they had just been pulled from the dryer.

“Dean, you’re...you-you’re okay!” Castiel could only stammer, unsure, exactly, of what he wanted to say. Immediately, he was wary. God couldn’t keep bringing Dean Winchester back like this. Surely it’d serve to only upset Fate more, and nothing else.

Dean’s smirk grew wider. “‘Course I am!”

“Sam...Sam said that-”

Dean waved a careless hand and pushed off of the doorframe, taking a few light steps towards Castiel before shoving his hands into his pockets. “Oh, Sammy. You do realize that poor kid has been running on like, two hours of sleep every other day, right? _If_ he’s lucky?”

Castiel swallowed, taking an unconscious step backwards. “Well, yes. That’s why I...he’s deep in REM sleep right now. His system would have forced a shutdown anyways, even if I hadn’t intervened.”

Dean shrugged. “Thanks Cas,” he sounded genuine. “You’re always looking out for us, know that?”

This was wrong. Something was wrong. “Of course, Dean. You’ve said that before. Are you sure you’re alright? The things that Sam described...they weren’t uncomplicated.” He settled on the only word that could really grasp the things he’d been told.

Another shrug from Dean. “Kid hallucinated a lot, remember?”

Castiel nodded slowly, his feet slowly taking him backwards. What was that smell? “You’re aware that I destroyed the tablet, right?”

A grin split Dean’s face. “Hell yes I’m aware, man. Good work!”

Castiel frowned. “Dean. Where’d you...where did you go? What happened? There’s no way Sam was amidst a hallucination for two weeks that you couldn’t shake him out of.”

Dean sighed; there was that scent again. It was making Castiel’s skin crawl with worry and apprehension. “Don’t do that to me, man. Not when I haven’t seen you.”

“Dean, I-” Castiel stopped breathing for a moment, finally pinpointing the scent. Sulfur. Disgusting, vile, overwhelming _sulfur_. “Crowley. Crowley has been here.” He whipped around, scanning the room. “Where is he? Are you sure you’re okay?” Dean stayed silent. “Answer me, Dean!” he shouted.

Dean only gave him a playful smile. “Quiet, Cas! You’ll wake the baby.”

Castiel jerked backwards. “What? No- Dean I, he’s in REM, I made sure he won’t wake for hours.”

The chuckle that rumbled from Dean’s chest made goosebumps crop up over Castiel’s skin. His heart was thundering loudly under his ribs. “Perfect,” Dean murmured under his breath.

Castiel steeled himself, finding courage from somewhere within him, beneath the stolen grace and the last remnants of his self-respect. “Answer me, dammit!” he demanded. “What the hell happened here?”

Dean sauntered towards him, his gait relaxed in the way that a jaguar relaxes right before leaping towards its kill. Castiel found himself stumbling backwards with each of Dean’s steps. “Did ya miss me, Cas?”

He swallowed, stepping back again. “I-yes, Dean. Of course I missed you.”

Dean hummed. “I missed you too.”

Castiel bit his lip, apprehensively noticing as Dean’s gaze tracked the movement. “Okay, Dean. Pleasantries are over. You need to talk to me.” His voice shook, his slight fear bleeding through.

Dean tsked, stopping where he was, a few feet away from Castiel. “Pleasantries over already, Cas? Fine, I guess I’ll get down to business.” He flashed a devilish grin at Castiel, leaning back onto his heels. “So pretty much, I’d actually really enjoy a chance to fuck you right about now.”

Castiel felt like his heart had all but stopped, and then redoubled in pace. Blood rushed downwards, leaving him dizzy. “E-excuse me? Dean!”

He shrugged, still smiling that cocky, cat-that-got-the-cream smile. “You did say pleasantries were over.”

Castiel swallowed, backpedaling. Had he missed something? He had to have missed something. “Are you drunk, Dean? You must be. You fought Metatron and then went on a bender and scared Sam…”

Dean’s grin faded, his face morphing into a look of deep, absolute venom. “Nope,” he enunciated, popping his lips. “Sober as a stone, I’m afraid.”

“Then you must be...this is a cruel prank. I thought you were beyond these things!” he tried to channel as much disdain into his voice as possible. Oh heavens above, _what was he missing?!_

Dean rolled his eyes. “Shit Cas, are you always this slow? I’m being real here. I. Want. To. Fuck. You. I want to stretch you open with my hands and my tongue, taste that sweet angel ass just beyond my lips and then I want to fuck you into sweet, sweet oblivion.”

Castiel’s jaw dropped. “Dean, what is _wrong_ with you?” His body was betraying him. His slacks had grown tighter, perspiration had built up over his skin. His heart was still beating dangerously fast.

That dangerous smirk was back on Dean’s face. “What, Cas? You can’t tell? I’m all...new and improved, if you will.”

Castiel squinted, and then he could tell. His draining grace had prevented him from seeing, had focused its energy on more important things, like keeping his body together and maintaining safety. But if he squinted, and tilted his head just right, he could see. He could see the twisted blackness roaring inside of Dean. No longer the shining ball of glimmering light it once had been; no, his soul had been turned into a cloud of tar and ash. He gasped, and took a step back, but found himself backed into a wall.

The predatory smirk only grew. “Ah, there it is.”

He was standing in between Castiel and the door. Was there any way to escape? His fingers twitched, trying to force his angel blade into manifestation. His grace was too weak; the blade remained hidden just out of the plane of reality.

Dean tsked again, taking two large steps, effectively pinning Castiel to the wall, his large hands wrapped around Castiel’s wrists, pinning his hands to the wall. “Yeah,” Dean cocked his head to the side. “You’re not going anywhere. And I highly doubt you’re strong enough to get that blade out, babe.” Castiel tried to focus but then Dean ground up against him, pressing into his stiffening cock. Castiel’s knees nearly gave out. “Unless, of course, this is the blade you’re trying to get out. By all means, continue.”

“Dean,” Castiel panted. “Stop, stop, this isn’t you.”

Dean released one of Castiel’s wrists to smash a fist into the wall next to his head, making him wince. “The hell this isn’t _me_ , Cas! This is _all_ me.” He ground upwards again, forcing a small whimper from Castiel. “This is me without the _pathetic_ shell of insecurity I always carried around,” he spat. “I’m bein’ honest now. And honestly? _I want you_.” He bent down to lick a stripe from Castiel shoulder up to his ear. “And something tells me,” he whispered dangerously. “That the feeling is mutual.”

Castiel struggled to free his other hand as Dean watched along gleefully. “Dean, no! I don’t want you like this! Not when you’re a...you’re an abomination!”

Dean’s eyes narrowed. “You know what, Cas? I think you’re a liar. A goddamned liar. You do want me. I can practically _smell_ it on you.”

Castiel squirmed, trying to look anywhere but at Dean, trying to think past the sudden, overwhelming arousal that was flooding his system. It only made Dean persist, and he pressed himself full-bodily onto Castiel, allowing the heat of their cocks to align through the fabric. Dean grabbed Castiel’s chin, forcing his face forward, so he was looking directly at Dean when his green eyes bled into black. “What’s the matter, Cas?” he crooned. “Afraid of the dark?”

Castiel narrowed his eyes at Dean. “Never,” he growled.

Dean cocked an eyebrow. “Good.”

And then he pulled Castiel off of the wall and launched him onto the bed.

Castiel bounced, righted himself and then tried to scramble off the other side. He only got so much as an inch before Dean was on him. “Ah, ah, ah, angel,” he tutted. “None of that. Don’t make me tie you up.”

Castiel glared. “I dare you,” he spit.

“Mmm, feisty angel!” he bent down and captured Castiel’s mouth in a bruising kiss, Castiel’s startled gasp prompting him to allow his tongue to probe deep, brushing over Castiel’s. The sound it elicited from Castiel’s throat made a bubble of glee burst inside of him. He tilted his head, sucking lightly on Castiel’s tongue before moving to bite at his lips.

“Dean, Dean, I,” Castiel was panting. He had stopped fighting against Dean’s grasp on his wrists.

“You what, angel?” he purred, pulling away to suck a bruise into the hollow of Castiel’s throat.

The realization hit Castiel like a punch to the gut. “Dean, I _want_.”

Dean pulled away, one corner of his mouth turned up into that same jeering smirk. “‘Atta boy,” he praised quietly. He shifted Castiel so that he was laying the right way down the bed. In one swift move, he’d removed Castiel’s slacks and boxers, yanking his shoes off in the process.

Castiel laid there, staring at the ceiling, bewildered. Dean was a _demon_ and now he was undressing him, and Dean was a _demon_. And oh, Father in heaven, he was naked and then- _oh_.

Warm, wet heat had enveloped Castiel’s aching cock. He arched off the bed, a loud whine escaping his throat. Dean’s palm pressed heavily to his belly, forcing him back onto the bed as he took Castiel’s entire length down his throat. He felt his eyes bulge impossibly as his cockhead rubbed the back of Dean’s throat in a tight swallow. “Dean, Dean, _Dean_ …!” he keened, thrashing.

And suddenly the warmth was gone and Dean was hovering dangerously over him, his hand wrapped around Castiel’s throat, forcing his eyes open. “Don’t you dare come before you’re supposed to Cas. Don’t piss me off like that. I’ve wanted this for _years_ , and dammit, you are going to _last_.”

Castiel swallowed as best he could beneath the pressure of Dean’s palm and nodded. Satisfied, Dean pulled away to strip himself. He made no show of it, efficiently removing his clothes and tossing them to the floor before reaching over to the table next to his bed, yanking open the drawer to retrieve the tube of lubricant he kept there.

Castiel gulped, trying to scoot away again.

Dean’s eyes flashed from the brilliant heated green to the ink black. He grabbed Castiel by his shirt and yanked it over his head, tying it in a knot on one of the slats of the headboard, Castiel’s wrists still caught tight in the fabric. “Stop that,” he snarled. “I don’t want to hurt you but by God, I will if I need to.”

Some of the fog cleared, enough for Castiel to mutter, “stop blaspheming. It is unbecoming.”

Dean shouted his laughter. “You’re a miserable liar Cas, you know that!” It was true, if the fresh blurt of precome cooling on his stomach was anything to go by. “Let’s get this show on the road, huh?”

He roughly shoved a pillow beneath Castiel’s hips, elevating them just slightly. Castiel opened his mouth to complain about the stress this put on his neck and then Dean’s tongue, hot and thick, ran right over his opening. His words dissolved in a gasp.

Dean licked and sucked with fervor, holding Castiel’s legs up and apart, effectively pinning him to the bed so he could get his fill. Castiel could feel saliva cooling up the crease of his ass and he couldn’t help the loud moan when Dean’s tongue curiously prodded. He felt, rather than heard, Dean’s encouraged chuckle right before he delved back in, his tongue hard and extended, seeking, pushing, opening.

By the time that Dean had pulled away and replaced his tongue with slick fingers, Castiel was unsure of how he was still breathing. “Dean, Dean, I can’t,” he panted. He watched Dean’s eyes flick back to black and he bit his tongue, trying to stave off the pleasure. He wasn’t sure if Dean had been telling the truth about hurting him and frankly, he wasn’t very eager to find out.

“Good boy,” Dean murmured, twisting and scissoring his fingers. Castiel felt so full, so stretched and open. It felt filthy and deliciously beautiful all at once. And then Dean crooked his fingers and Castiel nearly flew off of the bed with the force of the pleasure. “That, there, is the prostate,” Dean explained, sucking another hickey onto Castiel’s chest. “Now, tell me, if God is so against homosexuals, why the fuck is the male G-spot up our asses?”

Castiel was gasping for breath, struggling to reply, trying to make his point while Dean was rubbing gently at his prostate. “G-Go-He doesn’t...care a-about sex-sexuality,” he struggled to get the words out, trying to squirm away from Dean’s insistent fingers, but an arm locked over his waist prevented him from moving. “H-he only w-wants worship a-and praise. G-Glory. Rec-Recognition as our o-one true God,” he panted.

Dean hummed, pulling his fingers from Castiel’s ass. “Huh. Well. He’s gonna get that and then some from you.”

Castiel pried his eyes open, prepared to ask, but Dean was propped over him and suddenly Dean’s cock was in his ass and his breath had left him in that one swift move. “ _Dean_!” he all but shouted.

Dean’s only reply was to brace himself over Castiel, pull out partway and shove roughly back in, hard enough to force Castiel back a little bit.

Castiel was slightly dismayed by the sounds escaping his throat. It seemed as though they were beyond his control. He couldn’t stop the moans, the whines, the pleas, the _blasphemes_ that fell from his lips. He established very quickly that they weren’t bad. They seemed to only egg Dean on. The louder he cried out, the longer his eyes would stay that familiar shade of green (now dark and blown with lust) before flicking back to black in between thrusts. It seemed as if there were two sides within Dean, and he was unsure of which it was that was pulling him repeatedly onto Dean’s cock, harder and faster.

And suddenly, just as he was beginning to feel that pressure build again, Dean pulled all the way out, leaving him feeling gaping, open and empty. He began to complain when Dean harshly flipping him over, his wrists getting tangled even further in the fabric of his shirt. It’d be near impossible to get out of those now, not without help. Dean yanked his hips up, forcing his ass into the air, and mounted him, shoving roughly back in.

Castiel cried out, his voice cracking, back arching. The new position had allowed Dean’s cockhead to reach directly to Castiel’s prostate, ramming mercilessly into it. He was grunting, his noises animalistic and deep, touching a place inside of Castiel he wasn’t even aware existed.

“Dean, Dean, _yes_ ,” he gasped. “I’m going, I’m going to-”

A quick hand snaked around his hip and wrapped tightly around the base of his cock. Suddenly, the tingling at the base of his spine, the tightness in his balls increased tenfold...but it _hurt_. “Dean, what are you-?” his voice was high, confused.

Dean was still thrusting into him. “You don’t come til I tell you to, dammit,” he commanded.

The slight tendril of fear that had gotten buried beneath lust reawoke, snaking around Castiel’s insides. He nodded his agreement, trying to think of anything but the wet slide of Dean’s cock in his ass, the sound of skin slapping against skin, Dean’s moans and grunts in his ears, the smell of sweat, sex and sulfur, intermingling into one heady cloud around them.

Dean hips had begun to stutter; he was hitting Castiel’s prostate every other thrust now, forcing a high pitched noise from Castiel each time. He placed both his hands back on Castiel’s hips and leaned back to watch his dick push in and out.

“Like this, Cas,” he grunted. “You’re gonna come just like this. On my cock,” the words were spoken between clenched teeth, a struggle to say while holding off his own orgasm. “Kay, Cas?”

“Y-yes, Dean.”

Dean thrust in once more, twice, three times and then Castiel clenched, holding his cockhead right to his prostate. Dean’s whole body shook as he spilled inside of Castiel. Castiel froze, shoved backwards and his whole body arched as he screamed, the sound echoing throughout the room as come spurt from his cock in ever longer strands.

He came down from the high when Dean pulled out of him, a loud squelching sound making him wince. Uncharacteristically gentle, Dean rolled Castiel to the side, away from the puddle of come, situating a pillow beneath his neck. “There we go,” he crooned quietly. “There it is. Sleep now, Cas. Sleep...I’ve got you. Just sleep.”

His last conscious thought was, Dean is a _demon_.

_Dean is a demon and we just had intercourse._

**Author's Note:**

> Comments make my heart sing. All are appreciated!  
> Music this was inspired by: pretty much everything Blink-182


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